Rip Your Heart Out
by The-Confusing-And-Bewildering
Summary: "I assume the good Professor sent you to finish off the job? Well, Miss Adler your assistance is not needed. For I am already dead."
1. Chapter 1

Rip Your Heart Out

A Sherlock Fan fiction

Disclaimer: I own nothing. This fic is a plot bunny inspired by Bram Stoker's Dracula the movie (1992);BBC Sherlock and From Hell a movie starring Johnny Depp about Jack the Ripper. It is a WIP. There will be minor spoilers through out for all three.I recommend seeing all of them. There will be gore, sex consensual and not, prostitution,blood drinking, murder,vampires,werewolves and character death. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

London 1888

The gas street lamps of London spread their dim light across the cobbled streets. I came upon him shortly after midnight. Never in all my years had I seen such sorrow until a robe clad man mourned over his momentary marriage.

"Molly...no not you...my sweet...sweet girl...my darling Molly."

His baritone voice became heavy with unshed tears. His long body shielded most of her from my view as he lay folded over the corpse. Long,calloused fingers wove themselves into her brown tresses. Margret Hooper Holmes was barely a woman of seventeen when she captured the heart of Sherlock Vernet Holmes. To the public this was a mystery. Why would such an eligible bachelor of such fame fancy the plain faced daughter of the local butcher? She had absolutely nothing to give this gentleman. No title, no pedigree and no beauty had ever caught the detective's eye before this small sparrow of a woman. She was timid and always had her pert nose in a book. Molly was smart, gentle and did not seem to contain one bad quality. Molly never intentionally offended anyone. Sherlock was critical, sarcastic, posh, and went out of his way to shock and offend the population of London. She was his antithesis in every way. 'Oh was that the reason he loved her?'

The Ripper had struck again. This time he did not slaughter an unattractive whore. No, the death of this poor girl was personal. Scotland Yard proved a to be a building filled with bumbling idiots. Only this strange detective matched his agile mind. My James had been enthralled by Sherlock Holmes and had left me to my own devices much to my relief. From what my husband had described Mr. Sherlock Holmes and his powers of deduction I had expected a cold,calculated English gentleman. What I found was a broken little boy.

"You disappoint a lady Mister Holmes. " I purred out.

His dark curls shifted as he lifted his head from the curve of the dead girl's neck and glared in my direction. He clutched the girl impossibly tighter against his lean form. Her nightgown once snow-white dyed scarlet by her life blood.

"I assume the good Professor sent you to finish off the job? Well, Miss Adler your assistance is not needed. For I am already dead." I believed his words for I saw death in his once ever changing orbs. They shown a glassy gray. I knew with certainty they would never shift in color again. A feeling I had never experienced previously wrapped around me like a heavy cloak. Sherlock Holmes would live again. I would make sure of it.

"Do you wish to see your love again?" I asked.

His forehead creased in confusion.

"Do not torment us." He hissed from his spot on the stoop of 221B. Sherlock had buried his face in his wife's hair. His body shook with sobs.

"Would you trade your very soul to see her again?"I asked. This caught his attention.

"If I could Miss Alder...If only..."He whispered cradling his beloved's face in his large hands.

"I can make sure you see her again. You would become a monster with an incredible blood lust...a creature without the hope of salvation. You would be awakened from your blood lust only when you find your beloved. Then your lust for her will overtake the creature. You will become like us. "

I held an unneeded breath as I waited for his answer.

He looked into his beloved's hollow chocolate eyes and kissed her nose. "Do as you must demon."

A feral growl ripped through my throat. I pulled his head to the side by his beautiful hair. My sharp canines sheathed themselves in the delicate flesh of his neck. Sherlock Vernet Holmes breathed his last.


	2. Chapter 2

Much gratitude to my reviewers! I am so glad ya'll like it! BTW I'm an American so any criticisms of the colloquialisms would be GREATLY APPRECIATED. Peace and Enjoy! 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing and even if you sued me out of spite you would get maybe a twenty.

Rip Your Heart Out

Chapter 2

London Modern-day

Molly moaned in contentment as the steaming downpour from her shower head massaged her sore muscles like no masseuse ever could. A small tabby cat batted at the blue-tinted shower curtain trying in vain to rescue his mistress from the horrors of water. Toby really loved his human friend even if she did reek of mortuary chemicals when she came home. Molly giggled and rustled the curtain. The tabby hissed at the cheap plastic obstruction. A tactical retreat was in order the feline determined as he streaked across the atrociously sunny bath mat to safety.

"There's a reason people use the term pussy when describing felines."

A voice that was pure sex purred. Molly stood stock still in her shower. Irene could make out her rather satisfying silhouette through the curtain. Her rose tinted tongue slowly glided over her perpetually ruby lips.

'Yummy '

Saliva leeched into her perfect mouth. She rolled her neck like she had a kink in it and smirked. "I see what your dearly departed husband saw in you all those years ago." Irene commented casually. Molly tensed. Irene could feel Molly's blood pressure rise."Mmm...too bad your dearest would have my head if I sampled you. Even a nibble and my soul is scattered in the wind like potting soil." Irene pouted like a child."Men are such killjoys are they not Miss Hooper?"

"Wh-ho ar-r-e y-ou?" Molly stuttered out.

Irene Adler tore the curtain off it's rod. Her emerald orbs darkened to black as she gazed at the soapy pathologist. The succubus literally purred this time. Her form suddenly shifting inbetween that of black jaguar and an exquisite sex-kitten. No pun intended.

"Sleeeeeeeeep my lovely Miss Hooper."

Irene caressed one porcelain index finger down Molly's perky nose. The pathologist's eye-lids droop and she slumps forward towards Irene.

"For when you awaken you will free me of my bonds."

/

Deep within the bowels of the Earth beneath 221B, past the concrete the pedestrians strolled upon, under over a century's worth of sediment a skeleton lies in a coffin. Solitary and sulking he slumbered. The bones shuddered on their own accord.

_** .CLACK.**_

Joints clicked together. Tendons wove themselves around the lanky skeleton. Flesh sprouted like grass in the spring. Silence fell as the earth worms and maggots fled from the sight.

A pale fist shattered through the decrepit coffin lid. The creature roared.

"MOLLY!"


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer:I own nothing.

(AN) So I have been thinking long and hard about this chapter. It will be longer than the previous two hopefully. I really love how much ya'll love this! Your support means he world to but the POV will change when I so desire.

Chapter 3

I am dead. That I deduced. Yet, also alive. What am I man or creature? I decide I do not care as long as I have Molly. "Molly!" Where is she? Something that can only be likened to acid shoots through me. I can feel every sinew of muscle winding around and around. Connecting and twining my soul to my bones again. I open my eyes and feel. I groan and hiss. Every part of me was sore but, an urgency I cannot explain overwhelmed me. My fist smashed through the lid of my coffin. This new body could be useful. I had assumed that being brought back to life would leave my body revitalized like a good sleep after many sleepless nights spent working a case. I was wrong. My senses overwhelmed me. I heard everything. I felt a mouse scurry approximately twenty meters above me. There was an earthworm borrowing seven miles due north east of my location. I heard every single beat of it's hearts so precisely. I realized then that I am as I was before death. My powers of deduction are simply heightened. Extremely sensitive.

I levitated out of my now lidless coffin. If I used my final resting place as sparingly as I had my bed it will not matter that the lid was splintered and maimed. " Now where is my wife?" I bellowed.

The 'acid' shot through my lifeless veins again. The pain brought me to my knees. I heard Molly scream and a feral roar. Two razor sharp incisors dug into my bottom lip. Then all went black once more.

Molly Hooper sat up straight in bed with a scream. Her floral print nightgown stuck to her like a second skin.

"It was just a dream."

Her heart pounded against her sternum demanding attention. Molly counted backwards from ten. Then counted backwards from twenty.

"What is wrong with me?"

She spoke out loud. Toby yowled from under the bed. It had all seemed so real to Molly. She reached blindly for her lamp nearly knocking it over when she found the metal cord.

'Click'

"Toby? Here Kitty kitty. Do you want to help Mummy make some tea?"

Toby just hissed.

"Fine be that way."

She glanced at her alarm clock.

" Four in the fucking morning. Well,Toby looks like Mummy won't be sleeping anytime soon."

It had been two days since Molly had that nightmare but she couldn't shake the feeling of urgency. Completely innocent everyday sounds frightened her. She had to change jumpers this morning because she had dumped an entire mug of tea on herself when her toaster oven dinged. 'Get a grip girly'

"What do you think Mr. Norman? Am I crackers?" She asked the corpse she was already elbow deep in.

"I'd say." A man's voice answered.

She squeaked her heart hammering.

"Oi! Molly are you alright?"

Greg Lestrade asked with a concerned look on his handsome face. Molly turned her torso to look at the detective inspector without taking her gloved hands out of Mr. Norman.

"You just startled me is all Greg."

She replied removing Mr. Norman's heart and plopping it into a stainless steal bowl. Detective Lestrade winced at the wet sound it made when it hit the bowl.

"So have you come about the Louis Harrison corpse?"

Molly asked as she tossed her gloved into the nearby bin. Greg shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and rocked back on his heels.

"No actually I'm here for you."

Molly's forehead creased.

"Why I thought Stamford was your on site pathologist? Is his son ill again?" She asked. Greg shook his head 'no' slightly.

"Molls we've had some strange shit going down recently and ..."He paused taking a deep breath. "We have reason to believe it has something to do with you."

Molly opened her mouth to protest but Lestrade was too fast.

"We don't think you murdered anybody Molly. It is just a precaution. Just come back to The Yard with me answer a quick question or two and then you are free to go." Molly already had her coat on.

"O-okay Greg. Is it about-"

Lestrade nodded with a sad smile on his face.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N I hope ya'll look under the sherlolly fic recs I posted on my profile if you have not you are missing out!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter:4

Molly had always liked Greg Lestrade. A strong hand that had (no doubt in Molly's mind)protected many innocent bystanders tenderly pressed into her lower back as they walked out into the unusually brisk June weather. The silver haired man meant it well. Molly knew this so she swallowed down her discomfort. Kind,loyal, and man enough to become a detective inspector at Scotland Yard, Molly could not understand why she was not attracted to him. It was just not normal. But, then again Molly knew she was far from normal. Gloved fingers absentmindedly rubbed across the raised skin on that lay on the inside of her right wrist as Lestrade hailed a cab.

"Makes no sense" Molly mumbled when she slid in the cab.

"It's going to be alright Molls. I swear on my badge we will get to the bottom of this." Greg was always such a knight in shining armor. Molly gave her companion a small smile.

"I am really okay with all this not knowing-"Molly was cut off by Lestrade's gruff huff.

"You woke up six years ago with no memory naked and covered in blood! I admire you Molly Hooper, really but how can you not be just a little bit curious?"

Molly shushed the detective inspector.

"Not so loud Greg!" She stage whispered.

The DI's made eye contact with the cab driver in the rear view mirror. "Oi cabbie! See this badge?" The cabbie nodded."This badge says you heard nothing." The cabbie started yelling at the detective in a foreign language that might have been french. Their aggression was unfounded. Molly decided.

'Men. Who needs them anyway? Oh ya me.' Crossing her arms over her less than bountiful top half the pathologist sighed and turned to watch London zip past her.

Two calculating steel eyes shone like headlights in the darkness of the slum that was once 221B Baker Street. Light leaked through the gaps in the thick red curtains that are now coated in dust. The kaleidoscope eyes softened when they fell on the dilapidated curtains. "Molly-" His deep voice was barely above a whisper. Sherlock still wore his three piece suit that Mycroft had asked he be buried in.

Sherlock steepled his fingers under his chin and hummed in thought. 'Mycroft...brother mine...how much did you know?' A throat was cleared.

"Excuse us master-b-bu-bu-" A bundle in front of the fire place stuttered shattering the brooding Holmes's concentration.

Sherlock whirled around to glare at the two bundled wretches huddling against the fireless fireplace.

"What came over you Anderson? Did you finally evolve into a vertebrate?" Holmes voice was ice cold like the rest of him.

"I think what Andy 'ere is sayin' , Master, is we won't be much use to you,spying and what not, if our limbs fall off." A second less educated voice interjected.

Sherlock chuckled darkly.

"You two are not among the living what you are feeling is not the chill of the atmosphere but, your lac of blood pumping through your veins. Now cease your chattering and locate your Mistress!" He hissed and bared his fangs. The two slave rose instantaneously and ran out into London in search for their Master's misplaced bride. Sherlock bowled over in pain. The acid shot through his undead body again. Sherlock refused to submit to the acid in his veins. This time stronger than ever before. Last time he blacked out only to be found amongst the corpses of the wretched and downtrodden that lived on the streets of London. Wiggins and Anderson were accidents but, decidedly useful. It comforted Sherlock to know even in an animalistic state he thought ahead. The pain hit him again and he coughed up some of the blood he did not recall ingesting. Sherlock knew the cause of the pain now. It was hunger. Sherlock Holmes was starving.

(A/N) So...I'm rather pleased with this chapter. I hope ya'll are! Peace! 3rd time trying to upload this thing!


	5. Chapter 5

(AN)In this chapter I will really spend time explaining how Moriarty and Irene came to be. Kinda an informative filler chapter. Hope it's not too dull. Thanks to Browny Pink for the Beta-ing/suggestions! Please review! Reviews to the fanfiction author are like cases to a bored consulting detective.

Disclaimer: I still only own my chihuahua...or does she own me? Anyway please don't sue.

Chapter 5

A stunningly beautiful woman lounges,naked as the day she was born, across a pure white coach in a candle lit room. She had been called by many names over her centuries of existence. Cleopatra, Helen of Troy, Irene Adler and later Mata Hari. The only man she ever thought truly ever cared for called her "The Woman". To "The Woman" Mr. Sherlock Holmes was "The Man". Too bad he had to crush her and choose that plain Jane butcher's daughter. Irene would eat dirt before she would admit to anyone that she envied the mousy Molly. She envied the girl,for Molly stayed a innocent youth within the succubus's beautiful brain, because she loved. Irene had given up on love even before Sherlock Holmes roamed the streets of London. Molly Hooper radiated a quiet strength that Irene just did not possess. Irene may have appeared outwardly to be a powerfully confident woman, which she certainly was. Her dark locks cascaded across her breasts like a Renaissance depiction of Eve. In the world of blood sucking monsters, she was Eve. She had long since given up on the idea of having any of her own children. When she remembered swelling with child and enduring the excruciating labor pains-

A single scarlet tear trickles down her porcelain cheek.

'All dead before they lived. Every. Single. Babe.' Irene thinks to herself.

She had gone through the agony of countless stillbirths. Irene had asked and prayed that she would just die. But, you see how that worked out. Irene had never asked for this existence. She resented it. She was an experiment of some sort. They were once human sort of. Their creator through an vile, evil ceremony ripped his soul apart. You see, they were the first two out of seven pairs. Vampires always come in pairs. Fourteen pairs made up the Magnussen line. The plan was to reproduce. Irene's entire purpose in her long undead life was to reproduce and be a mother. She wanted it more than anything because unlike her madman of a mate she had a heart. Her heart shrunk over the centuries like grapes in the noonday sun but it was still there. Sadly, the fool Magnussen grew cocky in his unholy quest to create the perfect race and angered The Big Man Up Stairs with his pride. The Children of Magnussen were forever cursed by Heaven.

'Curse the bastard Magnussen... You never hear a woman plot to take over the world. We see it for what it is-pointless.'

Then when she thought her life could not possibly get any worse, it did. Her mate went on a killing spree. Previously, they had only murdered to survive. Magnussen had created one couple for each of the seven deadly sins. Jim and Irene are the embodiment of lust. Irene craves what she simply cannot have whereas Jim lusts after blood.

'I hate myself for still loving the monster that used to be my Jimmy.'

She sighed aloud. If she were ever completely honest with herself (she would never let THAT happen) she craved him like a drug. When Jim was calling the shots her spine tingled. His dark intellect and unpredictable actions made her shiver. Irene arched her back off the white sofa. An erotic 'oo' escaped her permanently ruby lips.

Sherlock Holmes would forever be "The Man" but Jim Moriarty would forever be "Her Man".

Okay just for clarification 'thoughts' (not because I think my readers are idiots how could anyone who reads this fic be anything less than a genius?) Peace! Please feel free to review! Don't be shy now...do it for rayofmoonlight2...please...I NEED YOU!


	6. Chapter 6

Ya...Chapter Five was confusing. I'm rather embarrassed by it actually. It's definitely being edited. It was meant to clarify the form of vampire they were...Anyway...Today is a new day and a new Chapter!

Please forgive me. Back to the original plotline.

Disclaimer : I don't own anything cool. You'd lose money suing me. So please don't sue for your own good.

Chapter 6

Greg pulled the yellow crime scene tape up so Molly could duck under. He stepped into his detective inspector mode." There were two more bodies completely drained like the others when we got the call. They just vanished into thin air when Stamford turned his back. It was like they walked away. Bizarre. Oh and then there's that."

Lestrade pointed toward the back of the crack house. Scrawled across the back wall of the seen of the mass murder was a name.**Molly**

"Is that blood?" Molly asked.

Lestrade's phone rang shattering Molly's state of mild horror.

"Oi, Molls we have to get back to The Yard. Someone from the government wants to talk to you."

Sherlock Holmes had never been in this much pain before. The long limbed,Victorian suit clad detective lay curled in on himself. He had relocated to his now lidless coffin after the coughing up blood incident. The mere thought of his two slaves finding him in such a vulnerable state made him feel even worse. For he truly felt atrocious. This sudden bout of illness did not help Sherlock's state of mind at all. If he were honest with himself (he had gotten better at humility after matrimony) he was terrified. He was in a world he knew nothing about. He had come back to a form of life where he hungered blood only to cough it back up again a few hours later. He was not truly alive yet, he was not truly dead and he seemed to be having a form of vampiric influenza. He was in a real pickle. But, Sherlock Holmes refused to give up.

'It appears I have been dead over 120 years. Why I slumbered that long? (unknown) How has London changed in my absence? (don't really care)Is my wife alive?(If she isn't I will have to have a talk with Miss Adler.) If Molly is alive where is she? Is my wife in this monstrous state also? (Then she might be less repulsed by me.) If I find Molly and she IS repulsed by my new undead life will I let her leave me? (No. No. No.) That must not happen. Ever again. She already left me once and that resulted in turning into a sniveling school girl in front of 'The Woman'. (A school girl that sold his soul to an unholy creature.) How pathetic. Mycroft was right I am stupid. But, Mycroft's dead now isn't he? So is Mrs. Hudson,Mummy,Mary and John.(Stop.)Thinking about things I cannot change will only distract me from my objective. If I were Molly Hooper Holmes where would I be?'

The game was on. Now how did you play it?

Anderson and Wiggins walked in tandem down the streets of London. They easily slipped into the crowd unnoticed. They had a mission. Find their mistress.

" Oi! Master gave you a description of her ,right Wiggins?"Anderson asked.

"Aye. Petite woman, straight brown hair, brown eyes,smiles a lot. Wears a wedding ring on a chain around her neck." Wiggins rattled off.

"Why did the master happen to marry the most unremarkable looking woman in all of England?" Anderson whined.

"Oi! It's none of our business who the Gov fancies Andy! We just need to find her before he decides we would be better off as a snack."

"Now Molly, is it alright if I call you Molly?" Molly nodded "I am under the impression that you know very little about yourself or the letters tattooed on the inside of your right wrist."The rather stately looking man standing next to Lestrade's desk said.

"How did you know about her tattoo? How does any of this have to do with the bodies?" Lestrade asked from his uncomfortable looking desk chair.

The rather official looking man ignored Lestrade's questioning and leaned upon his umbrella.

"Y-yes but, h-how do you-" Molly hated herself for stuttering. This man just looked so familiar. Molly shook her head to try to clear the fog." I think I've met you before-do I know you? Have you lost weight?"Molly felt her face flush. She did not even know his name and here she is commenting on his physical fitness! "I-I am so-"

"It's perfectly alright." He smiled a smile that made Molly shiver just a little. He was a dangerous man but, he seemed to be on her side. "I am rather pleased that you remember me at all. It was quite a long time ago when we last met. Now, the reason you are here is for me to answer any questions you may have. Sadly, I cannot stay to answer all your questions personally because of pressing business matters." The mysterious man pulled a thick manilla folder out of his jacket and passed it to Molly.

"I hope this answers all your questions. I'll be in touch" Then the man left.

Molly had a massive headache.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N Hey everybody! A very heartfelt thanks to all the readers who have taken the time to review especially Miss. Murder X.x who has been a very consistent! I love ya'll all and I'm sorry that some parts of the story are confusing and I will be editing it at some point. BUT, that may not happen until the end and this story is NOT gonna be wrapped up very quickly. I can tell ya'll that much. I am also mulling over starting another Sherlolly fic but, right now just finding enough time to upload a quickly typed chapter is difficult. This story is bringing me joy and like (my version of Vamp!Sherlock)is bringing me back to life.

Disclaimer: As previously stated I do not. I REPEAT DO NOT OWN BBC SHERLOCK, DRACULA, OR JACK THE RIPPER. I do own the Sprite I'm about to drink though... please review!

Chapter 7

Molly was too shook up after the day's events to even kid herself into believing she would make it through her shift at Bart's. So after calling in sick( Stamford was very understanding), convincing Lestrade she was okay staying by herself,and feeding her neglected cat Molly Hooper flopped on her couch, dead tired. Her headache had grown into an outright migraine because of the cacophony of chaos and fear of what that manilla envelope held and...and...just everything. Molly groaned and massaged her throbbing temples with her knuckles. Till today she had been reasonably okay with not knowing. Perfectly content to live in the dark about her previous life. If Molly was completely honest with herself(because truth like a mirror reveals both the very good and the very bad) she was terrified. What if she had been a serial killer? That would explain why such an intimidating government official had a file on her. No,Molly reasoned if she was Hannibal Lector in pumps wouldn't she be in some top secret government prison?

"Stop it." She scolded herself with a smack to the forehead trying in vain to stop her brain from spinning around and around like a Ferris wheel controlled by a maniac clown. Maniac Clown or no she would(for the lack of a better term)man up! "Get a grip Molls! For all you know you could have a family out there missing you! If you don't read that file you won't ever know!" She jumped up from her sofa. A look of determination etched across her adorable features. She looked more like Shirley Temple and less like Clint Eastwood as she set her jaw and stomped across her flat to the folder that lay on her humble kitchen table. Violently she flipped the folder open. Molly gasped. Inside the folder were three items. The first a plain gold wedding band inside a small evidence bag and taped to the back of the folder. The second an ordinary sticky note with an address scrawled in red ink. The final item was a lamenated marriage certificate from June 8th 1888.

" Sherlock Vernet Holmes aged thirty-seven and Margaret 'Molly' Louise Hooper aged seventeen." Molly mumbled to herself.

"T-that's i-impossible. T-th-hat would make me-a hundred and forty-three years old?!" Laughter bubbled over in Molly. Toby peered around the edge of the sofa watching his human friend's sanity fly out the window like it had wings. 'She's finally gone crackers.'

* * *

"So when are we nabbing her?" Anderson asked his cohort ,Wiggins from Molly Hooper's fire escape. "Soon. Very...soon." Wiggins arched his fingers under his chin in an imitation of their master. Anderson rolled his eyes.

* * *

A/N So! As always review! Peace! :)


	8. Chapter 8

(A/N) No one else is terrified of what the future holds, stressed out of their minds,hates their lives and tired of grinning and baring it right? NAW! Anyway. Sorry. Just needed to vent. Ugh! I effing HATE MATH! Okay. Good. Anyway. I identify with Molly. A whole helluvalot. I just saw the new Star Trek. The one with Cumbersexy as an evil bastard. I kept thinking throughout that entire movie that he had a sexy mole on the back of his neck(just below his hairline by like an inch) that I could imagine Molly nibbling on. I know! Ima perv...but...no one else thought that right? If ya did please mention it in the reviews. The mole of endearingly distracting sex appeal is totally gonna pop up at some point. Just BTW. Keep your eyes peeled.

Disclaimer: I don't own shit.(Forgive me. It's been one of those days.) I wish Benedict Cumberbatch owned me...yummy... no seriously please don't sue me.

Chapter : 8

Wiggins and Anderson stayed on Molly's rickety fire escape for approximately an hour and a half. In that short time they observed the impossibly tiny woman consume an entire container of frosting with only her fingers,then nearly drown herself choking down a half finished bottle of strawberry wine while tears ran like rivers down her flushed features. Then she promptly passed out fully clothed on her sofa.

'Whoa.' Anderson thought in amazement.

"Okay. Now we nab 'er Andy." Wiggins proclaimed as he smashed his fist through the window pane.

"WHAT THE HELL WIGGINS! WHAT IF SHE WA-" SLAP.

Anderson clutched his smarting cheek his mouth agape.

"If you keep bellowing you'll wake 'er neighbors dumbass." Wiggins stage whispered.

* * *

_**Meanwhile at 221B**_

Sherlock Holmes was overwhelmed by the amount of sounds his ears picked up. Horns, conversations, the scraping of trainers against the pavement two miles East of him all merged with a thousand different sounds. Curled up in his coffin six feet of sediment and a house between himself and the outside world did nothing to muffle the sounds of a bustling London. Strengthened senses should have helped him locate his spouse but instead it hindered him.

'Useless. Bloody Useless.'

He hated being useless almost as much as he hated being ill. Right now he was very ill. His vision resembled that of a dappled pony. Grey and spotty. His skull was a mine filled with miners wielding pickaxes that just loved to hack away at his cranium.

'Hurts like hell!'

He groaned out in agony. Nails digging painfully into his scalp. The heightened senses of his new life were making him miserable. 'Dying was not this painful! I can't concentrate!'

"SILENCE!" He growled. Then everything went deathly quiet. "Mind Palace." Deep breath in...and out. "Yes, think." Another deep breath."Think Molly."

His mind palace held many ideas. Whether they were useful to him like how to free range cocaine or precious like the day he came across John Watson for the first time. His mind palace had it all.

Sherlock's muscles relaxed when he came upon one of his favorite rooms in his mind palace. He slowly turned it's golden door knob and let the door crack open on it's own. The smell of Molly hit him first. She never wore a powdery cloud of rose water and jasmine like the a lot of women wore back then. No not his Molly. To him she always smelled of honey, lemons and faintly of chocolates.

' Molly had devoured anything sweet because she wa- no IS sweet.'

Molly had been so young when they had married. 'So fragile, so feminine but... also fiercely intelligent.' A sob formed in his throat but he held back his grief. 'Molly needs a grown man not a sobbing infant!'Sherlock scolded himself.

'I will not grieve over someone who is among the living. I refuse to.'

It had been cruel and selfish to marry her. In doing so he had robbed the world of a precious commodity. 'If I had not been so sure of myself...so positive I would catch Moriarty...you would have lived.'

Sherlock could not bare to enter Molly's room. He refused to indulge in the freshness of her face he would find within. He was unworthy. Always unworthy of her presence, of her bright smiles, of her love...

The world had looked upon him and seen an icy genius that got off on solving heinous crimes. Molly saw through his shields manipulations and simply saw him, Sherlock Vernet Holmes the selfish, arrogant, possessive man-child who refused to give her up even in death.

* * *

(AN) Thought it needed more angst...anyway...please review! Peace!


	9. Chapter 9

(A/N) I really cannot believe ya'll are still reading this? Not the fanfiction, this fanfiction is the shit man! But really...when I read fanfiction. Which is quite often like more than I do...anything really.(exception would be you tube) I skip the annoying authors' notes. Anyway...I've noticed TONS of grammar errors in my writing. I'm not surprised. This fic is NOT a sherlolly award winner. At least not yet. Once again I just want to marry every single one of my sexy reviewers! I think I'm making so many sexual references in these (A/Ns) cuz I'm perpetually single and it's approaching Valentine's Day. Now DO NOT GET ME WRONG, I love being single about...85% of the time except when horny and lonely. Hope this chapter is not too cliché...

Okay now I'm gonna shut up now.

Chapter 9

"MMMMM...the mistress smells amazing! Like a box of Chocolates." Anderson's mouth filled with saliva and his eyes rolled back in ecstasy. Poor Molly was still out cold while hanging over Wiggins' shoulder. Anderson stared, pupils dilated to the size of the harvest moon at Molly's relaxed face. He was starving. They had not eaten once since accidentally being turned by the undead detective. Sherlock Holmes was not exactly a people person and did not seem to care if they(his devoted followers) lived or died. Their Alpha's main concern was getting his woman back. The two of them were undead not stupid. Sherlock Holmes gave off an aura of strength they were compelled to obey. Or it could be the fact that they were accidents and had every right to be terrified of their maker. They had taken to calling him 'Alpha' in their heads for some unknown reason. Little did any of them know that what Sherlock had done,though unintentionally, bound them all together on a familial level.

"You touch the mistress and I guarantee you ,Andy,the Gov' will rip us apart with out batting an eyelash. " Wiggins warned as they crept through the alleyways of London back to 221b Baker Street.

"Do you think he will be pleased?" Anderson gasped.

"What if we grabbed the wrong one Wiggins! Does that mean we can eat her?" He asked excitedly. Drool dribbled into Anderson's beard. Anderson came closer to Molly his dirty finger nail a hair breath away from touching her flushed cheek when a deep rumble came from ahead of them. The street lamp above Anderson's head grew icicles even though it was the middle of June. A shiver ran down their spines. Molly's cheek twitched.

"Is that-" Anderson started while trembling behind a wide eyed Wiggins. Wiggins nodded. They could not see him so much as feel him.

"Aye... Aye... but he's running off of instinct..." Wiggins whispered. Two cat-like eyes opened slowly. "See his eyes. ..remember when we died... the glow in his stare...he didn't even have to get that fancy suit of his dirty...didn't even ruffle a curly lock..." Inching toward the bigger man Anderson's shoulder barely grazed a loose strand of Molly's hair. A snarl as deep and dark as the Pacific Ocean shook the alleyway. "just froze us...with the ice in those eyes. "

* * *

He had been curled up in his coffin when he felt her approach. A rich amber warmth filled his chest and the almost constant hollowness in his stomach dissipated. Sherlock gasped. His super sensitive eardrums latched onto the steady rhythm of Molly. Her heart drummed loudly in his ears overpowering everything else. John had always compared him to a shark because of the way he sought out answers. Well, John Watson was mistaken. Right now Sherlock Holmes resembled a gray hound ,long and lean, whose human just came home from a long vacation. Sherlock lay still for about a millisecond listening before he sprung from his resting place. He was breathing harshly even though he obviously didn't need the oxygen. All his vampiric grace forgotten as he stumbled over the very curtains he had been admiring earlier. "Damn it!" Molly had hung those curtains. Well, made him hang those curtains even though they clashed terribly with the wallpaper. He had hated them then and he hated them now. After catching himself, he flung the door open,sprinted down the stairs and out the door. A fearsome scowl marred his handsome features at what he saw. His two useless lackeys were speaking of EATING MOLLY! An instinct that belonged to Sherlock the husband and Sherlock the enraged creature took over. Though he appeared homicidal to his two minions,which was not a wrong assumption, he was panicking.

PLEASE REVIEW!


	10. Chapter 10

This chapter is not meant to confuse. But, for all ya'll who thought this fic was being wrapped up...you were wrong. I plan on milking my muse for all she's worth. Besides I did promise that whole mole nibbling scene...I was informed by a bud of mine that I was a weirdo...but I am a woman of my word and their should probably be some sex to even out the violence...right? Well there will be a lemon if I can write one without bustin' my gut laughing the entire time I'm typing. I can only fake maturity for so long.

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC Sherlock. Do not sue, please.

She felt trapped. She always felt trapped. Life had trapped her. She did not miss the creature she had been created with. Magnussen had been a bastard. Her spouse, Caine , had been too wrapped up in his own envy of the other "Children" to properly care for Delilah. Caine had conquered. That had been the true love of his life,conquering, not Delilah. Delilah was just a trophy. It was not the way they were meant to be. Trapped with someone for all eternity that thinks of you as a trophy to be polished then tucked away. Someone who is you in the most basic sense should be more attentive. She could not leave him. Caine and her had been created at the same time. They had been bound together from the beginning. Delilah could live with the posturing and neglect. She knew her place. Played the submissive wife. Until Caine did the one thing she refused to live with; betrayal.

She remembered the night he came to her with the news. The door to her room creaked loudly when he entered. Upon hearing her Caine enter she smiled warmly up from the pages of the novel she had been perusing. His pale skin contrasted violently with his dark chocolate eyes and equally rich mahogany hair. He stood just past the threshold of her room. "She's pregnant." His deep voice rattled Delilah's ribcage. Delilah just stared unblinking at his face. His words stung more than she thought they would. Why had he done this? Did he not know of her devotion? Did he not see? "W-who?" Delilah was too stunned to be angry. In truth she never did love him. Love was something those lucky mortals had. Delilah had seen how much power they had because of love. She had envied them. Maybe Caine had too? "The human woman, Lucy. I will marry her." He always was a bastard." You must accommodate her stay while she lives out her mortal life here. She bears my child after all. " Caine was so detached and domineering as he turned out of the room.

That was when Delilah made a decision on her own for the first time in her long life."No Caine I will not be accommodating any longer. " She decided to leave her husband.

**Back at Baker Street:**

Sherlock's logical brain had become overwhelmed and shut it's self off. It seemed to be a sort of defense mechanism in his new life. Strange instincts took over and they were screaming. _**"MMMMMMMOOOOOOOLLLLLLLYYYYYYY" **_He or his instincts bellowed out into the night sky. Snow began to fall white and pure. Wiggins slowly bent down placing Molly at Sherlock's feet and slowly backed up. Anderson was still huddled behind Wiggins,whimpering. Sherlock's eyes softened when he noticed Molly's body laying at his feet. Watching her chest moving up and down, calmed him. Engrossed in watching his wife breathe,Sherlock failed to notice his minions flee off into the night.

Sherlock knelt in front of Molly's slumbering form.

How she still lay in peace after what she had just experienced even Sherlock bloody Holmes didn't question. Really did it matter? Softly his finger tips caressed her face. She was a fragile china tea set made more beautiful by her uses. His arms came around the back of her torso and head. One hand cradling her head the other pressing her firmly against his torso. His almond shaped eyes never left her face.

"Molly dearest?" He whispered like a prayer.

* * *

(AN) Please review sweeties! rayofmoonlight2 needs some emotional support. Lol. Oh and I have no idea when or where this is gonna end I'm already planning a sequel if ya'll want it...or if I want it. Or this will just be uber long...idk. Peace!


	11. Chapter 11

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank ya'll for all the support with this fic! As we are getting deeper into the story questions will be answered and more questions will pop up.( To CloudCuckooLandHasAQueen : Aw thanks! I debated whether it would be too cheesy or not but hey! Glad someone liked it! ) (To formerly X.x now I'll Be Your Bad Girl X.x : I knew I couldn't be the only one! )Updating is getting harder because of all the school stuff I have to do. Oh! My POS cell phone that my parents gracefully used to replace my previous phone because it decided it would commit phonicide this summer by bouncing off a bridge(did not think that was possible) and into a creek,(phew) is basicly useless now. So FML. And the fan on the laptop this is being typed on is not working so FMLFMLFMLFMLFMLFMLFMMLFML. Yep. Not to mention my ever present fear of graduating High school only to become a bum because I cannot even get hired by effing McDonald's because I cannot speak Spanish reared it's fugly head again! If I havta hear "You'll be okay you have a good head on your shoulders." One more time! Okay, rayofmoonlight2 will cease the rant now before the entire chapter is her ranting.

DISCLAIMER: YOU ARE AN IDIOT IF YOU THINK I OWN BBC SHERLOCK. And if you read the rant above also know that my life thus far is a disappointment and I only have $16.00 to my name.

On with the show!

* * *

He still did not understand. He hated not understanding. Sherlock Bloody Holmes should be able to figure out the greatest mystery he had ever come across...his wife. As he lay in his coffin with Molly's head on his chest he pondered the great mystery that is Mrs. Holmes.

Flashback

Sherlock and John had just met the day previously and were in the process of moving John's assorted possessions into 221B. Or at least John and Mrs. Hudson were moving all of John's assorted possessions in. Sherlock Holmes could not be bothered to remove his posh posterior from his chair.

"The great git cannot get off his arse to help a war veteran and an old lady." John said through gritted teeth as he lifted a particularly heavy item.

"Mrs. Hudson is hardly a feeble old marm Dr. Watson." The great git answered from his spot starring out the window and down into the streets below. To the average observer he seemed to be just observing the 'dull simpletons' of London like he often did. Sherlock had thought he was doing that too. Oh but the heavens had different ideas. That is why on this particular drizzly dull day Molly entered his life.

There was a timid knock on the door.

"Sherlock could you do an old woman a favor?" Mrs. Hudson called from parts unknown. Something heavy banged against the floor of John's newly acquired room sending dust raining down upon Sherlock.

Sherlock rolled his eyes dramaticly and with a great sigh answered. "It's just the butcher wanting to know if we will be needing an extra sausage since Dr. Watson moved in or something equally insipid. Dull." He moaned.

"Answer the bloody door Sherlock!" John yelled down from his room. Relenting, Sherlock gracefully strolled into the door. He whipped open the door to reveal one of the most unremarkable women he had ever laid his eyes on. She was small and dainty and very plain. Her hair mousy brown like her personality. Well first impressions can be wrong. Little did he know that behind the plain sparrow exterior Molly was definitely remarkable.

"What do you want?" Sherlock grumbled. The girl jumped back as if wounded by the harsh lash of his tongue. She stood before him in an outright atrocious dress. It hung off of her shoulders like a burlap sack. Her big brown eyes held innocence and maybe even a little intelligence.

"M-my father wanted to know i-if-" She seemed to get over her shock enough to speak. She was shivering from the rain or from the ice in his stare he did not know.

"We needed more bacon for Sunday? Yes we know. Please make that happen." He smiled charmingly then slammed the door in her face.

He chuckled at the memory. His laugh shook the sleeping woman on his chest waking her. "W-what? Where am I?" She mumbled into his chest. "Ugh my head..." She had drooled in her sleep. There was a wet spot on his shirt. He found he could not be anything but ecstatic that Molly had drooled all over his expensive now no doubt now priceless suit. Mycroft had paid for it after all. How could he not be the happiest man alive...or dead? He still had not completely figured that out either. Not like he would admit that to anyone. Eh...he would figure that out later. Right now he had more pressing matters to attend to.

His voice was low and like a sports car being revved. One ice cold digit caressed her temple in a smooth manner. "Molly darling. I've missed you."

Her big chocolate brown orbs that he first thought plain and now found beautiful beyond compare stared up at him in shock then bewilderment then resignation. "Sod it." She mumbled and cuddled back into his chest.

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Now what? Molly just accepts it? No dear readers this is not the end. Merely the beginning! MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Peace! Review at your leisure!


	12. Chapter 12

Authors Note: Glad ya'll find me so hilarious. Rants are what I do best...I need to vent so the creativity will flow and all that bologna...Seriously thinking about a sequel but I really don't plan this crap out. Really, I think too much planning stifles the creative juices. I'm also a visual artist ans need to be working on my friend's legit tattoo design but I'm putting it off maybe I'll do it tonight. Oh ya! I fixed the laptop fan! By blowing into the exhaust thing. Yo!Don't judge!Whatever works people. Don't act like you've never seen McGiver!

On with it my beautiful readers new and old! I love every single one of you and need ya'll to give me emotional support because I'm an 18 year old single chick with green eyes and...ya what do ya'll think about internet dating?

Disclaimer: Really people...don't own Sherlock...I am not an amazing author I'm not ACD or Gatiss or Mofatt...If I get more reviews I might reveal my real name though. Let's say...50. Is that aiming a little high? Well get over it.

* * *

Molly had never felt more at peace. A scent that smelled of pine, tobacco, and faintly of aftershave filled her nostrils. Then the object she cuddled chuckled. Blearily, Molly lifted her head from the comfy spot and met a pare of almond shaped eyes. Molly knew she should feel something. What exactly that was she could not be bothered recall. Her head felt like it was made of granite and her tongue resembled steel wool. Laying on top of some one who smelt as good as this bloke did was the least of her worries. 'Damn it! I'm ancient and married!' Her head hurt. Her head always hurt. At this point she might have a brain tumor.

"Molly Darling I've missed you." Her bed rumbled out beneath her. She held her gaze with the strangely enchanting eyes for a few beats.

The richness of his voice resonated within her. Like the intimidating government man she felt like she knew this man. But right now she did not dare deal with it. 'Too many bloody problems.'

"Sod it!" She exclaimed as loudly as a person in her situation could. She doubted there ever had been someone else in her situation before. 'I'm probably just dreaming anyway.'

An ice cold hand smoothed up her back in soothing circles. Molly's eyes started to droop. "D-do you mind telling me your name? Or is this just a hit and run?" Molly mumbled while nuzzling her nose into his collarbone.

"Only men who must be reminded they are men strike their wives. I do not need reassurance of my masculinity. I would never strike you Molly." The deep voice spoke in a hushed tone.

At the mention of _wives_ Molly's head shot up. "Sorry?" Her face looked slightly confused.

For the first time since returning from the dead Sherlock felt peace. Well, as a peace as Sherlock Holmes can be. His super strong senses at calmed down to a dull roar. They were no longer assaulting him from every angle. Now they were mainly focused on Molly. From the way her hair fell out of her pony tail to her slightly pink cheeks he noticed every single detail. "W-w-what do you mean?" She stammered.

"What part confused you? I know you are more intelligent than this Molly. I did not marry you for your cute button nose." 'Well not just that.' He paused then looked quickly toward the entrance to his tomb which was really more like a converted cellar. His curly dark hair bounced slightly as he lifted the top of his torso off the padded coffin. Someone was outside and it was not one of his slaves. How did he know this? Wiggins and Anderson gave off this rotten meat smell that he did not. Sherlock had some theories about that. One of them was that they were portable snacks. With his new senses he could hear their heart beats even though they grew fainter daily. If they were semi-alive still he could sip from their sweet blood slowly till they were drained. He had decided he would drain Anderson and then keep leave Wiggins alone to see what would happen. He needed to investigate but he did not under any circumstance want to leave Molly alone. The thought gave him chills.

To Molly he popped up like a prairie dog she had seen on a nature program about Yellow Stone National Park. Molly took this exact moment to realize another weird thing to check off of her bucket list. Really though the only two things she had on her bucket list were _Do not become the crazy cat lady of London_ and_ Do not die single_. Anyway not the point. The point was : "Am I in a coffin?"

"You always were a little slow in the mornings. Sleep does that. Dulls the senses. That is why I do not sleep. Well I guess coming back to life after 126 years is a tad bit like sleeping." He turned back to the dazed woman in the rumpled Cat *jumper with a smirk.

Molly's head resembled a mary-go-round.'Is he teasing me? Wait does this mean we are married? Damn. How in the bloody Hell did I get him? He's quite handsome. He is kind of off though. Maybe I was running away from him and he finally caught up to me? Then why do I feel so safe?Ugh my head!'

Sherlock's new senses were telling him not to worry about the intruder but he did not know why. Well he had very little to go on if not for his instincts. Sherlock Holmes was no idiot. Rude, cold, and an arse he may be but stupid? No. Sherlock trusted his deductions before and he trusted them even more now.

The door to the tomb creaked open loudly flooding the dimly lit room with light. Sherlock hissed in pain. The sunlight did not scorch him like a marshmallow (usually this was not an issue in dreary London) but it did over power his hyper-sensitive eyes. A shadow played across the two coffin dwellers in the shadows hand was a closed umbrella.

"Hello brother mine."

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(AN) DUNDUNDUN! For all ya'll wondering where the crap the Morene action is well it's coming soon! I admit I have been avoiding it cuz Moriarty needs to be superb and well I wanted to get ya'll hooked b4 I subjected you to my awful rendition. Oh an what about this Delilah chick? Just better follow and find out huh? Love and Peace and Peeps to everyone! Please Review!

*Jumper is U.K. for sweater. I know everyone in the U.S. Hears Jumper and assumes it to be the dress like things 8 year old girls wear. So to just spare any unneeded confusion.


	13. Chapter 13

(AUTHOR'S NOTE) rayofmoonlight2's rant will start in 3...2...1...My phone died. We are not talking dead battery, no. It will not turn on. AT ALL. I'm also exhausted. I haven't been able to focus at school properly for about two weeks. On the bright side though-it's the weekend! Anyway I've got another fic in mind. But I really don't want to post it until this story is at least at a stopping point I still don't know if there will be a sequel or not...considering this fic is pretty big. But anyway...keep calm and review on!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Just my imagination.

Mycroft Holmes was a good man despite what his brother said about him. As the older brother Mycroft had learned a long time ago that responsibility can turn into an addiction. Mycroft grew up being responsible for the only consulting detective the world had ever seen. Now he thought about it, he owed his tendency to think three steps ahead of his political opponent from helping raise his brother. Mycroft loved Sherlock because he was the only one who could ever best him at his own game. Well, until that monster came along one night and turned his life to rubbish in the span of thirty minutes.

'How could Sherlock have been so blind?' Mycroft had asked himself that question every day for 126 years and still could not come up with an answer.

"So I see you have finally awakened,dear brother." Mycroft commented from his side of the decrepit table as Anderson and Wiggins scurried around preparing tea. Their master had calmed down somewhat with the presence of Molly. It was actually quite remarkable how calm Molly was about the whole situation. It was very British of her. Mycroft could not help but admire his sister in law a little for that. Sherlock and Molly were sitting on the opposite side of the table. His brother scowled at his brother in response.

"How are you still alive Mycroft? Do not tell me you found the fountain of Youth in your loo?" Sherlock verbally sparred.

Anderson placed the tea tray in front of Molly who looked a little green but otherwise calm. Sherlock's senses picked up on her unease and confusion over the entire situation but as always people were not his area. Determined not to waste his second chance at being her husband, Sherlock reached for Molly's hand under the table. His fingertips just grazed her knuckles before she shifted her hand away. A crease formed between Sherlock's eyebrows and his eyes searched for Molly's but she refused to look anywhere but at the tea tray. The world's first and only detective was baffled.

"You cannot blame her can you? She had just previously found out about her life before all of this happened. Oh and I would not be so quick to rub me the wrong way today brother dear-I have the answers you both yearn for but, my patience runs rice paper thin nowadays. A side effect of my "Fountain of Youth" as you put it." Mycroft said before taking a sip from his tea cup.

"Could someone please get me an aspirin?" A small voice asked. The ever prepared Mycroft pulled a Ziploc bag containing one small white pill from his suit jacket pocket. "Here you are dear."

Molly gladly accepted the bag with a weak smile. Sherlock did not seem pleased by Mycroft's sudden use of the term _dear_ in Molly's direction. He did not think Mycroft had ever used the terminology _dear_ for anyone except to patronize. This sounded genuinely sympathetic. Instantly he was suspicious.

"Please Sherlock calm yourself I am no more a threat to your marriage than you are. A lot has changed in 126 years,brother."

"You always enjoyed stating the obvious-" Sherlock begun.

"Will you please just explain what the bloody hell is going on!" Molly interrupted wincing at the volume of her own voice as she shoved herself away from the table."All this secrecy is bloody-fucking-ridiculous!" Four pairs of eyes widened at the small woman's sudden outburst.

"Very well, I will explain. Just please have a seat." Mycroft said in his calm politician voice.

"I think we should begin with your birth shall we? There have always been legends about creatures of the night. Many scoff at the idea that there is something else out there besides humanity. These creatures are real and crave domination. They were an experiment gone awry as it were but that is not important. What is important is to know that your parents if you could remember them were not your biological parents. You, Molly Hooper, are one of these creatures. My brother was turned but, you are a precious rarity. You are a half ling. "

(AN) Please tell me what you think! Sorry if it sucks I've been tired recently! Love Ya'll! Peace!


	14. Chapter 14

Author's Note: I have a macroeconomics midterm over Spring Break. ' Nough said. Oh and my Spanish Teacher is skyping me...I suck at Spanish. Like really terrible. I need a job but at the same time I am worried about my macroeconomics / Spanish grades dropping(they are both currently C's) because of me being exhausted from working all night. What do ya'll think? I know this is just me complaining but really you don't like hearing from the author just keep scrolling baby!

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or Benedict Cumberbatch or my house(my grandparents own it) or really much of anything. Well Except Caine and Delilah for now anyway...

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The tomb in which my husband slumbers is dark and filled with the corpses of his abandoned blood slaves. Sucked dry to the bone over their brief existence. Caine thought he had the woman Lucy under his control. He underestimated the power a life filled with adversity can have on a human. Lucy had lived a rough life. She had been born of a whore and raised by a group of whores on the rat invested streets of White Chapel. Lucy was a pretty little woman. She had her mother's red curls and huge storm colored eyes. They were wise eyes that when you looked into them you saw her strength. The prostitutes that raised Lucy tried to keep her out of the 'family business' but, Lucy had very little control over her fate. She had no idea who her father had been after all. How was she to know that her father was a powerful being? A being called an incubus. That was the only explanation as to what happened that night. Male vampires are as sterile as a mule if they mess around with a pure blood human or a pure blood vampire. I should know my husband had indiscretions with both.

Caine was hunting that night. Normally he just sipped from one of our many blood slaves that doubled as house servants. But, he went into **a time when male vampires become overcome by their hunger. Only male vampires have been known to black out and then wake up hours,days,weeks later with a string of new slaves. The husbands of our kind cannot turn humans into full fledged vampires. The reason I believe is because they would do it out of their blood lust rather than with the intention of tutoring the young ones in their new exsistence. It would bring about an apocalypse. The wives on the other hand can create young ones through our venom but not through our wombs. I became concerned when a young one of mine found me and told of the birth of two children to Caine. **

** My daughter, Sally, informed me through ragged breaths. She had ran with the small abomination for only god knows how long before finding me. Anger flashed in her eyes. **

** I had found Sally Donovan when on a trip up north and knew she had strength as well as a good heart. That is my gift to see the very core of a person. I knew Caine would eventually betray me but, vampires only have one love. Lucy was used by my love for his own personal gain. I could not stand to see another innocent be used like we had. So I took the small whimpering babe in my arms. **

** I asked as I gazed down into the two most beautiful chocolate orbs. I gazed into the babe's soul. She was beautiful just like Lucy. **

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** Author's Note: Sorry it took so long...I'm a busy girl!**


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: do not own a thing.

It had been years since Delilah took in Molly and raising a half-ling proved to be quite a challenge. For one they grew quite slowly. It was not that Molly was a bad girl. On the contrary she was quite tame in her own way. She loved kittens,flowers, and reading the large tomes Delilah and Sally had collected over their shared lifetimes. The only real issue Delilah and Sally had with Molly was her obsessing with the dead. Very often Molly would return from reading in the open fields that surrounded Delilah's mansion in the North with dead toads and snakes shoved under wild roses in her basket. One night Sally had come across Molly carving the dead animals up in the attic with a large tome beside her. Molly was not stupid she knew her maternal figures were not quite living and not quite dead. She also knew they could do things she could not like, see someone's soul like Delilah or run as quickly as Sally. When she asked Delilah about why they could do those things she answered rather strangely.

**Delilah had replied without looking up from her knitting. **

**Molly asked quickly tilting her head to the side like a confused cocker spaniel. Delilah laughed and her beautiful eyes twinkled warmly down at Molly. **

**Was Delilah's answer. **

**When Molly looked about fifteen some odd decades later, Delilah decided it was time for her to see the outside world. A world outside of their little makeshift family. Poor Delilah did not see her own fate like she could see Molly's. **

**Sally,Molly, and Delilah were walking peacefully down the cobbled streets and peering into the windows at any pretty object they fancied. In fact they were so engrossed in their window shopping they did not notice how the streets became deserted except for three other people or that these people knew what they were until it was too late. **

**A woman with blonde hair and blue eyes dressed all in black approached the three with a cheerful smile. Delilah smiled a close lipped smile back. The woman kept approaching and bowed before the three. **

**At that Mary's two companions also female and also wearing all black descended. **

**Sally screamed out as a stake was ran through her spine with a sickening sound. These slayers were fast and skilled. Sally disintegrated into ashes before Molly's eyes. Delilah was being chased by the third slayer. Then the Mary woman swiftly rammed a stake through Molly's chest before running off after her cohort. Molly gasped out in surprise. Her hands shook at her sides as she looked at the stake protruding from in between her breasts. One of the slayer's ,a pretty Asian woman, stared in disbelief at Molly. **

**Molly did not have an answer. She just knew that she just saw Sally die in front of her and had a piece of wood shoved through her sternum. **

**The sound of running footsteps interrupted the scene as the two other slayers approached. The blonde,Molly noticed,seemed to be the leader. Mary asked. **

**Sue Lin looked dazed. **

**Mary concluded. **

**The last slayer a very pretty brunette approached Molly. Anthea grabbed the end of the spike and yanked it out in one pull. She then lifted the spike and licked some of the blood off. Anthea seemed to be savoring the flavor on her tongue for a minute like some might a fine wine. **

**Anthea concluded. **

**Sue Lin asked. **

**Mary said. **

**Sue Lin was interrupted by Anthea. **

**Mary asked. **

**Anthea said in her emotionless manner. **

**Molly had been watching the scene with mild fascination. Surprisingly, she was more interested in the fact she was a hybrid then the thing about erasing her memories. **

**But before she had a chance to ask any questions her world went black. **

**Molly awakened with a violent jolt. She did not remember falling asleep on the table she, s **

**Sherlock and Mycroft were seated at. All she remembered was Mycroft saying she was a half-ling and taking a sip of tea. She looked up into two concerned almond shaped eyes. **

**Sherlock bellowed. Molly felt even worse than before. **

**Mycroft replied while taking a sip of tea. **

**Molly did not believe her own brain. A sob became stuck in her throat and warm liquid flowed down her face. She was mental she decided. No way this was real. **

**Damn her head hurt. **

**Suddenly, two arms encircled her and Molly felt herself being lifted into the air. Sherlock said coldly. **

**Molly had had enough of everything and gave into her urge to bury her face in his chest. She inhaled his comforting scent between heavy sobs. **

**Author's Note: This really should've been posted with the previous chapter but whatever...**


	16. Chapter 16

NOW HALF-ASS EDITED! :D HAVE FUN SEXY SHERLOCKIANS!

Author's Note: I made a fifty on my macrofuckingeconomics exam. Yes, that is a word. Anyway I really want to write. No one else gets that urge right? Quick fic recc MizJoely has written some very sexy pwp vamplock. Yummy. Great inspiration...there will be some action in this chapter of the limey/lemony flavor...now I want some sticky sweet pie. That's what I get for writing soft-porn when hungry...

Disclaimer : I don't own BBCSherlock. I mean really this is vamplock...I am butchering a masterpiece and ya'll love me for it. I love ya'll too. Please review! I miss you my lovelies!

Chapter 16

Sherlock was furious. Who was he furious at? Well, Mycroft had just shattered what was left of his sugar sweet Molly's sanity. But, he was even more angry at himself, though he would never admit that. He blamed himself for all of this. After Molly's breakdown he had moved the from the ancient kitchenette to his coffin. Morbid as it was it comforted him. Cemented him in reality. Kept him from murdering half of London. Molly had drenched his Victorian tux in the rancid stench of her tears. Why was she still crying? He had tried to do what his Mummy had taught him and let his true mystery, his only wife, his morbid mistress cry her eyes out in his chest. Her hot body clung to his cold one like ivy on the side of a medieval castle. But her tears made something rise up from within his belly. 'Comfort her.' His instincts had never spoken like that before.

"Molly. Cease your weeping." His whisper called to her in the most basic way. Promises of comfort dripped enticingly from his cupid's bow lips like hot melted chocolate. Molly's flow of tears ceased like a tap had been turned off. She looked like a hot mess. Her hair matted and her mascara from yesterday clumped and running all at the same time. In that moment, when her eyes met his, Sherlock had never seen a more feminine face. She had captured him in that moment all over again. If he was honest with himself (which of course he rarely was) Sherlock would admit that her vulnerability had always captured his attention. After he slammed the door in her face on their first meeting, Sherlock had not been able to get rid of her flushed cheeks or slightly agape mouth. After waking up in a mess of ejaculate and sweat the next night, he chose to utterly avoid the temptress Molly Hooper. When he had chanced upon her not a week after he had been so incredibly rude Sherlock knew he had it bad. Molly wore her Sunday best a beautiful light pink gown that proved to him that Molly Hooper was not a little girl. In her delicately gloved hands she held raw meat wrapped to perfection in butcher paper. With a small smile Molly had handed him the meat he had ordered. Their fingers grazed briefly sending an electrical shock through them both. They stared at the other for a full minute then, the consulting detective dropped the meat on the stoop and scurried back into the safety of 221B with a slam of the heavy oak door. He collapsed against the door heaving heavy breathes and sweating through his shirt. A very evident erection in his pants made him groan in agony. Sherlock did not know what to do with his new found desire for the fairer sex. He thought he had no interest at all in the baser of human urges. Damn. He had never been so wrong in his life. Sherlock Holmes was in lust and he only wanted one woman. 'She's cast a spell on me.' Is all he could think of. Of course it took him over a year to finally submit to the fact that it wasn't just lust but love. But, we will cross that bridge when we come to it.

Now though, the temptress was pressed against his body. Moreover, the temptress was now his wife.

"Sh-herlock?" Molly questioned.

A tender expression came over Sherlock's face before he flipped them over. Molly squeaked in suprise before perfect lips pressed tenderly to hers. His chilled tongue slid into her hot wet mouth and Sherlock's beautiful mind went blank. Soon they were winding limbs around each other like too halves of a whole. Big,calloused hands surrounded Molly's head. Sherlock moaned when his hair was tugged on. Molly being the only one having to breathe, wrenched her mouth away gasping for air. Her lungs burned with every inhale but damn it all if it wasn't the worth it. He tasted like man. A man Molly desperately wanted to be dominated by in the most primal sense.

Sherlock whimpers when she pulls away only to move to sucking, licking and nibbling at any part of Molly he can reach. "I will consume you." Sherlock growls out in the posh demanding tone. Cheekbones, neck, chin, collar bones all devoured in his hungry passion. Molly was soon grinding her center against his clothed cock. She was uncontrollable. The coffin shook making dust clouds puff around them. Sherlock's hips thrust up into her and Molly can feel his hard rod slightly penetrating her and rubbing so deliciously against her clit. 'Damn it's like flying'. Soon Molly cried out as fire works go off behind her closed eyes and they both collapse onto the padding of the coffin. Sherlock can feel his sperm oozing, sticky and white , a trail down his leg inside his trousers and Molly's khaki's are soaked in her own juices.

"I love you my sweet Molly." Sherlock huffs in her ear as she floats from orgasm to slumber. Molly falls asleep against Sherlock's chest. He decides right then and there that he'd fix this. He'll find Moriarty and kill him. The bastard had no right to take his Molly from him. Now that he had her again he would make sure no one else got the chance to take what was his...ever again.

Author's Note: Now you have to review...I gave you badly written smut ppl!


	17. Chapter 17

Sorry this took so long. I had lots of important shit to do. I graduate in May and damn...so much stuff I've been putting off...including this. Well, right now I should be cleaning but, I thought of ya'll so feel special!

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and saying I'm broke is a joke. So no suing...much obliged!

Sherlock Holmes stood in the darkness of 221B. He had taken off his soiled clothing finally and now wore a robe he made Wiggins retrieve for him. His steely cat eyes gleamed through the darkness.

**He pondered out loud to his skull on the mantle. Sherlock had left Molly ,asleep, in his coffin but for some reason he had this strange urge to stay by her side even with her hid away beneath his very feet. **

**He shouted. **

**He growled as he begun pacing the length of the flat. Sherlock's head was pounding beneath his temples. **

**A voice purred from behind him. It was so sudden Sherlock jumped in surprise. He twisted his body around. He tried to find the owner of the voice but saw nothing except an empty flat. **

**Sherlock commanded. **

**The voice spoke from behind him again. Sherlock felt a small hand caress his shoulder blade. 'Something about this voice...could it be?' Sherlock thought. **

**Sherlock smirked in triumph. **

**Irene suddenly appeared in front of him. Her crimson pout a breathes width away from his pretty mouth. She wore a deep crimson nighty that barely covered her private parts and in her perfectly manicured hand she gripped a horse whip. **

**She sighed in defeat before plopping down on the ground like an upset toddler with her legs spread dangerously far apart. She arched her back off the floor seductively before continuing. **

**Irene cut Sherlock off. **

**Sherlock looked at the ceiling to avoid glancing at Irene's very visible private area. **

**Irene winked. **

**Sherlock was getting irritated. He was about to snap at her when he felt Irene's horse whip slap against his thigh. **

**Irene shook her head. **

**Sherlock asked. Irene's flirty expression turned serious. **

**Irene's body shook like a leaf in the wind. She shuddered again and turned her back on the consulting detective. **

**Sherlock spat shaking her shoulders. **

**Irene faced Sherlock her eyes held a fierce protectiveness. She hissed as she turned into a fine mist and evaporated. Sherlock Holmes stood in his robe mouth agape. **


	18. Chapter 18

Rip Your Heart Out

Chapter 18

WARNING CONSENUAL BUT ROUGH SEX AND BLEEDING IN THIS CHAPTER!

Disclaimer: We've been over this.

**A voice called out in the darkness. A bolt of lightning flashed revealing a man drenched in the violent downpour. The ground world around him was flooded in green and dotted with tombstones. He was rather innocent looking with big dark brown eyes that gave him an almost child-like appearance. This child-like man was the infamous Professor James Moriarty. **

**Another bolt of lightening cracked as thunder growled. He was upset; Irene knew. Jimmy needed control. He had ordered her not to leave until he had awakened. Vampiric pecking order meant that the male was Alpha. His need to dominate was consuming him and Irene could not have been happier. **

**Irene's purred out with audible pleasure. She was no longer the hunter she was the hunted. **

**Irene knew he could grab her and claim her in mere seconds if he so desired. She watched him from behind a tombstone. 'Oh God he's perfect.' Irene thought as she roved her eyes down his front to his tented lap. **

**Moriarty growled. **

**Irene purred. **

**Irene counted to three in her head before behind shoved roughly forward into the hard surface of the tombstone. **

**Two sharp fangs cut through her skin like it was melted butter. She cried out in pain and pleasure. **

**-gasp-moan- **

**His fangs released her throat. **

**Moriarty dug his fingers into her drenched locks his fingers clawed against her scalp painfully. **

**Moriarty giggled. Irene clung to the tombstone and spread her legs in invitation. **

**He growled. **

**Irene heard the sound of wet clothes being dropped before hif fangs where buried in her throat and he thrusted into her. **

**Their wet bodies slapped together over and over again. There was no sensuality only the domination. **

**He felt so good inside her pussy. He was a perfect fit. After one more thrust, Irene felt sperm and blood flow down her thighs and she loved it. **

**AN: Okay, as promised Moriarty and rough sex! Please review!**


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